He Comes with Shadows
by Ad Absurdum
Summary: You're a regular Grim Reaper, Malcolm. Anyone ever tell you that?" AU-ish take on TATV.


_**A/N:**__ Written because I found the bureaucratic concept behind the shinigami organisation (as seen in at least two mangas) highly amusing.  
The quote at the beginning comes from "Shuttlepod One"._

_**Disclaimer:**__ Characters – not mine. No profit made._

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**He Comes with Shadows**

_You're a regular Grim Reaper, Malcolm. Anyone ever tell you that?_

Of course he'd been told that. It was nothing to be ashamed of. After all, he was one, and damn good at his job.

It was slightly disconcerting that the Commander had read him so easily, but he supposed he let his true nature darkshine through too much then. The proximity of death had that effect on Malcolm – he knew he tended to revel in the happy grimness of the experience.

He was glad Tucker didn't really mean what he'd said in the shuttlepod, though. Wouldn't probably believe it anyway, even if he was told outright, but that way Trip didn't freak out at least. And so Malcolm could watch as he lost consciousness and was slowly losing body heat. He did nothing – there wasn't much he could do to help and there was nothing he could do to harm. He just waited, toying with his custom-made scythe.

It was so much more handy and easier to carry these days. Malcolm smiled remembering the past when he would have to wear a long hooded robe and wield a scythe that was nearly impossible to hide, not to mention bigger than him. Yes, on the whole he entirely preferred modern technology that brought folding blades: neat and easy to pocket, especially with those overalls the Starfleet personnel wore.

Malcolm's thoughts returned to his time in Shuttlepod One. He was actually glad the Enterprise found them in time and he didn't have to use the scythe, no matter how lovely it was. He somehow came to like Commander Tucker. Trip. And other people on the ship as well. Perhaps it wasn't usual for a Reaper, but didn't seem to be harming anything. And it wasn't as if he was becoming too attached to these humans. He didn't have any problem taking all the souls the Delphic Expanse and battles with the Xindi ripped from his crewmates' bodies. If anything, he was glad he could give them their final rest and they seemed relieved too, seeing Death had a friendly face.

Malcolm remembered the moment the Xindi attacked Earth. His colleagues back on the planet certainly had their hands full. It was worse than the plague, wars or any natural disaster, mainly because it happened so quickly. The workload was enormous and the paperwork, he knew, had to suck. Fortunately, he was far away and thus was spared this particular spot of entertainment.

The only thing Malcolm really regretted about that attack was death of Tucker's sister and the damage it did to Trip. He changed – grief, anger and hatred all but obliterated his softer emotions, for some time at least. Their friendship suffered too, there was no denying that. Malcolm perhaps exacerbated the situation by suggesting a memorial service, but he felt it would be appropriate and besides, he liked funerals and memorials and he wasn't going to apologise for that.

But, well, he did miss the friendship a little. Despite its fleetingness – an unfortunate side effect of the ephemeral quality of human life – he grew used to it and thought having a friend was rather nice.

Trip's emotions were all over the place after Elizabeth's death, though, and Malcolm found he didn't appreciate their blistering intensity. His inner coldness and natural reserve – characteristics that weren't perhaps the most endearing for a human, but great for a Reaper – certainly clashed with Trip's volatile temper, especially back then.

They started to rebuild their friendship only recently; after what had happened with T'Pol and the baby.

Well, not like it mattered now. The people from Rigel X were here, Trip was reaching for the conduits and Malcolm had work to do.

Reed got up from his bunk, took the scythe and left his quarters.

His steps were calm and measured, there was no need to hurry, he would be on time. He was always on time.

He heard an explosion a deck away. The intruders would be dealt with by somebody else. Each world had its own Reapers.

Then Malcolm saw Phlox running with a stretcher, Trip lying on it, the Captain beside them. The Reaper half-smiled at the Commander and despite the pain and the fact that Trip barely saw anything because of the plasma burns, there was a glimmer of recognition in his eyes.

"Malcolm? What are you...?" He tried to lift his hand.

"Don't move, Trip." Archer's hand hovered over Tucker for a moment, but then dropped. It looked like there was no way Jon could touch him that wouldn't hurt.

They hurried ahead and Malcolm walked at his own steady pace, invisible to all but the one dying.

He passed Ensign Russell – she shivered and rubbed her arms in an attempt to get warmer.

"What is this? The thermostat's on the fritz again?" he heard her mutter as she was walking away.

Malcolm arrived in Sickbay when Tucker gasping for breath and yet, despite that, smiling, was talking to Archer. A moment before Trip's biobed slid into imaging chamber he flicked a glance in Malcolm's direction.

"Hey there," he whispered and Archer turned to see who his friend meant.

"I don't see..." the Captain began, but when he looked back Trip was already inside the chamber.

Phlox did everything he could, but when Trip lost consciousness even immediate resuscitation didn't help. He simply stopped breathing and now, out of the chamber, his body lay still and quite lifeless.

It was time.

Malcolm stepped forwards. It wasn't pleasant when the soul stayed tied to the body after death. In fact, it was downright unpleasant, the feeling akin to endless asphyxiation. He unfolded his scythe and cut Charles Tucker the Third's soul clean off his body.

Trip rolled off the bed, landing on his knees and clutched his throat. He was pretty sure Malcolm had just decapitated him, but his throat was all there, his head was also there and he... Actually, he felt better than just moments before.

He looked up; Malcolm's eyes held a spark of humour and his mouth twitched as if he was suppressing a smile.

"What t'hell had just happened?" Tucker stood up, eyed the weapon in Malcolm's hand and suddenly knew. The same instinctual knowledge that normally told a man he was alive, now told Trip – just as definitely – that he was dead. It was the creepiest feeling he ever had. He'd better make sure.

"Am I dead?" And that had to be the most ridiculous question he ever asked.

"Quite." Malcolm gave him a wry smile.

Trip narrowed his eyes and studied first him and then the sharp... well, it looked like a scythe. A nasty suspicion bordering on embarrassment began to take root in his mind.

"And you're..." He waved his hand vaguely towards Reed.

"Well, you did call me a Grim Reaper once. And, oh look, you were right." Malcolm was smirking at him and Trip had an urge to slap himself in the face – he'd never live that down. Malcolm was gonna torment him for the whole eternity.

He looked around Sickbay. There was his body, lying on a biobed, now covered with a sheet. Archer was still standing beside the bed, his hand resting lightly on the sheet as he stared vacantly at it. Phlox was pottering nearby, giving the Captain a semblance of privacy.

Trip felt a twinge of sympathy for Jon, but nothing more – no need to clasp his shoulder (and would _that_ even work now, anyway?) or offer any sort of comfort. Instead he only felt calm, cool acceptance. He supposed it was shock.

"Mr Reed."

Trip turned around to see the person speaking and Malcolm stood straighter as he faced his boss.

"Ms Hopkins." He nodded in greeting.

"Mr Tucker," she then addressed Trip who only managed 'Uh, hi' in response. Where the hell did _she_ come from? It wasn't enough that he was dead, he had to start hallucinating.

Well, maybe not since Malcolm obviously saw her too.

Feeling a bit more confident, Trip stared. The woman was tall – easily two metres – and she had the coldest icy-blue eyes he'd ever seen. Her face was serious, almost grave; she looked like she couldn't be more than thirty years old, but her hair was completely white. To be honest, she intimidated him a bit.

"Well done, Mr Reed."

"Thank you." Malcolm inclined his head.

"Now," Ms Hopkins looked at Trip. Under her penetrating gaze, he fidgeted a little. He wasn't nervous, not at all, just a tiny bit uncomfortable. "Mr Tucker, what would you say to a job offer?"

"Huh?" He wasn't expecting that.

"Excuse me?" That was Malcolm. Surely his boss didn't mean what he thought she meant.

Ms Hopkins ignored him.

"I'd like you to work for us as a Reaper. We could use your sort."

His sort? What sort?

"An engineer." Ms Hopkins added seeing Reed's and Tucker's bewildered faces.

Trip had no idea what to say.

"Alright?" Well, apparently his mouth didn't have that problem.

Before he could backpedal or even make a sound, Ms Hopkins was speaking again. "Excellent. Mr Reed," she turned back to Malcolm, "after this spaceship's mission is completed, I expect you to report to our Headquarters immediately. You will be given a new assignment and you will begin working with Mr Tucker as your partner."

"What?" Malcolm gaped.

"We have recently found that teamwork is actually more efficient. Who would have thought?" she wondered out loud. Then she gestured for Tucker. "Please, come with me." She took his arm and they both vanished, Trip's voice and his question of "Where the—" lingering in the air for a moment after.

Malcolm left Sickbay in a daze, absent-mindedly tucking his folded scythe into a pocket. He would get the Commander as his partner.

Trip. His partner.

Yes, after the centuries of working alone 'stunned' pretty much described how he felt now.

He walked in the direction of the explosion site, to resume his duties of a Security Officer. By the time he got there, he managed to get over his shock somewhat and even think that perhaps it wouldn't be so bad. He'd be working with a friend and that thought – as strange as it was – brought a smile to his lips.


End file.
